


This is Jon Stewart for WPTS, Patterson Springs

by bumblefuck



Category: Fakenews
Genre: Community: fakenews_fanfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-25
Updated: 2011-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-15 01:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblefuck/pseuds/bumblefuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome back to my long-running series, 'This is Jon Stewart for WPTS, Patterson Springs', an AU in which Jon works for WPTS with Stephen and falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waiting, Watching, Oh So Close

**Author's Note:**

> This series has really sketchy continuity, and while I've tried to fit it with "Stephen"'s timeline as much as possible, it's probably best not to think about it too much.

_1996, Patterson Springs, North Carolina_

There's a man in Jon's garden.

This is nothing new - he's been there for a couple of days now, just watching, not-quite-hidden in the bushes on Jon's lawn, notepad and pen poised and at the ready whenever Jon passes a window or even makes a move towards going outside. He tends to flee every time Jon gets near, but Jon's heard him, sneaking around, often humming the James Bond theme song under his breath.

Jon just sighs and shoves another lot of resumés in his bag and hopes this weirdo following him around won't stop him from finally, _finally_ finding a job.

After another couple of days when the guy doesn't show any signs of leaving, Jon decides maybe he should do something about it. So he sneaks out the back door - manfully resisting humming anything resembling the Bond theme ( _Mission Impossible_ is another matter entirely) - and tiptoes around the side of the house.

The guy jumps when Jon appears at his elbow.

"Coffee?" Jon says, offering him a mug. The mystery man makes a frantic attempt to conceal himself in what little cover the tiny bush next to him offers, but soon realises it's completely futile and, brushing bits of leaf from his turtleneck, accepts the cup.

Jon waits for a while, sipping his own coffee, but when the guy doesn't seem inclined to talk he asks, "So what are you doing in my front yard?"

The guy tries his best not to look shifty. "You won't be calling it that for long if the metric system has its way," he says, under his breath. Louder, he says, "Research," and waggles the notepad at Jon as if that explains everything.

"Okay," Jon says slowly, "now tell me why I shouldn't call the cops and tell them you've been stalking me since Monday."

"I'm not a stalker!" the guy says, standing to face Jon. "I'm Stephen Colbert! I'm on assignment! I'm doing a piece on the life of a college student! So far-" he flicks through his notepad "-it seems to consist of looking for work and getting high a lot."

"Don't you go to the same college as me?" Jon asks, thinking he recognises the guy from his politics classes. "Couldn't you just look at your own life?"

The guy - Stephen - flails a little at that. "I am not a _student!_ " he hisses. "I am an intern for WPTS in Patterson Springs, North Carolina!"

"Right," Jon says. "I'm calling the cops now."

"No!" Stephen cries, literally throwing himself at Jon's feet. "Please don't! I'll get fired, and I've wanted this job for so long! I even grew this mustache for it!" He points to his upper lip, and sure enough when Jon looks closer he can see a few scraggly hairs clinging to it. "Please don't send me away," Stephen begs. There are tears in his eyes.

Jon sighs.

"Fine," he says, "just... bring your mug back in when you're finished with it."

"Thankyou!" Stephen says, pulling himself up and shaking Jon's hand. "You won't regret this, I promise!"

"Sure," Jon says. "I hope I don't."

 

Over the next few days Jon finds himself chatting to Stephen more and more, often talking on his way home from classes or another hopeless round of jobhunting. Stephen walks beside Jon now instead of behind him, and Jon finds himself quite enjoying the other man's company, even if he does have some... interesting views.

"...and that's why the metric system should be stopped at all costs," Stephen finishes explaining to Jon one night. They're sitting in Jon's yard, half-sheltered by the bushes. Stephen tilts his head up to watch the sky and Jon thinks how peaceful he looks, how different from the manic energy he normally possesses.

He reaches out a hand to touch Stephen's shoulder. Stephen looks over as it settles there.

"What?" he says.

"...nothing," Jon replies. "Just thinking how nice this is. And how weird, considering I thought you were a stalker only a few days ago."

Stephen smiles broadly. "It is nice," he says, tipping his head back again.

They sit in silence for a moment.

"You know what would be great right now?" Stephen says. "Ricky Martin. His music is great for everything."

Jon laughs harder than he has in weeks. Then his asthma decides to make itself known and he laughs himself into a coughing fit.

"Ricky Martin?" he says when he can speak. "Really?" When looks up, Stephen's staring at him with something approaching shock. "Stephen? What's wrong?"

"I, uh, have to go," Stephen says, and then for the first time in over a week Jon is alone in his yard.

Jon doesn't see Stephen for a while after that. He walks out the door the next morning expecting to see Stephen's smiling face, but there's no one. And there's no one when he gets home that night, or wakes up the next day, or the next, or the next.

Jon misses him more than he thought he would.

On the fourth day Jon is roused by his doorbell ringing over and over. He heaves himself out of bed and shuffles to the door.

He's half expecting it will be Stephen.

What he's not expecting is the giant bowl of soup Stephen's clutching.

"Here," Stephen says, thrusting the bowl at Jon, "chicken soup. I hear it's good when you're sick." Jon takes it, bemused, as Stephen starts to babble. "I'm really sorry I ran away the other day," he says, "but I was scared you had the flu or smallpox or the black plague or something, and I didn't want to catch that, not when I've finally got my dream internship and I'm finally going to be an anchor. But your friendship means more to me, Jon, and I couldn't let you suffer on your own." He adopts a noble pose. "Besides, I've started taking Vaxadrine, and so I should be safe."

"It was just asthma, Stephen," Jon tells him, once he's managed to sort through all the crazy to get to Stephen's meaning. "It's not contagious."

"Oh," Stephen says, slumping a little. "Well, I guess Vaxadrine is good for that, too." He pulls a bottle from his pocket, rattling it at Jon. "Want some? Side effects may include wandering liver, internal decapitation, and limp noodle."

Jon stares at him. "No thanks." He looks down at the bowl in his arms. It smells delicious. "Hey," he says, "you wanna have some of this? Maybe inside this time?"

Stephen smiles slowly and Jon feels oddly warm in his chest. Somehow he doesn't think it's just the soup.

"Oh!" Stephen exclaims as he steps into Jon's house for the first time. "I also have a proposition for you. I thought, since I knew you were looking for work..."

The next morning Stephen waits anxiously at the WPTS studios. _Where is he? What if he doesn't show? What if-_

"Hey," Jon says, suddenly appearing next to Stephen, "sorry I'm late. How do I look?"

Stephen sees the beginnings of a mustache across Jon's upper lip and smiles.

"It'll do," he says, and together they turn and walk into the building. "Hey, did I ever tell you what I found out about Wayne Colt? Let's just say we may have a new anchor around here pretty soon..."


	2. Are You Being Served?

"--and that's a day this cat won't forget for a while."

The call comes to cut and Jon immediately sighs, pasted-on smile dropping from his face as he sinks his head into his hands. WPTS in Patterson Springs, North Carolina may be a stepping stone to greater things, but for now the increasing amount of meaningless and banal stories is incredibly wearing.

Suddenly a cup of coffee is thrust under his nose and he jumps, startled, before following the hand up to the arm up to the mustachioed face of Stephen Colbert.

"That was a beautiful story, Jon," Stephen says as Jon accepts the cup. "I can't believe that poor kitty almost got smushed by that tree." If Jon didn't know better he'd swear Stephen was about to cry; he takes a sip of coffee and tries not to notice.

"So, uh," he says, "I saw your story on Ricky Martin. Very, uh, thorough reporting."

Stephen sniffs. Jon tries vainly to keep his eyes off the strip of skin revealed by Stephen's shirt. "Well of course, Jon. We have to uphold the fine standards of WPTS. Without us how will Patterson Springs know what's going on?"

"Yeah, because stories about little old ladies and their cats are really breaking news," Jon says bitterly, and Stephen must sense Jon's hurt because he pats Jon on the shoulder, albeit somewhat patronisingly.

"But Jon," Stephen says, "there are many, many people who want to hear about a lady and her pussy."

Jon chokes a little on his coffee, swallowing hastily before turning to face Stephen. "Did you-" he says. Stephen's face is perfectly straight. "You didn't-"

"WPTS would never accept the kind of filth you're thinking of, Jon," Stephen says archly, but as he turns to head back to his office he winks, causing Jon to break out laughing.

Suddenly his day doesn't seem so bad, and as he does his report on the spate of disappearing lawn gnomes in Patterson Springs' eastern suburbs the smile on his face is genuine.


	3. Diamond in the Rough

_Patterson Springs, North Carolina, late 1996_

 _The Delawert Report_ is a terrible, terrible show.

Jon knows this, and he's mostly okay with it. It's not like it's completely awful - it has the seeds of something much, much better, if only they could up the production values, get some better graphics (or any graphics at all, really), and ditch the whiteboard - but it, well. It's pretty darn awful.

He gets the feeling Stephen knows it too - the man can barely stop himself from laughing his way through some of the segments - but for some reason he refuses to give it up. When it's cancelled, as it inevitably will be, Jon doesn't want to see it drag Stephen down as well.

"We're not even in Delaware, Stephen," he tells him, over and over, hoping that this time his friend will listen to his advice. "Why keep it? Why not use the time to report on stories that are more... newsworthy? You could be head anchor at WPTS. Nobody cares if- if Return Day might not happen this year."

Stephen doesn't get angry, or yell, or do any of the things Jon expects him to - instead he just looks disappointed.

"The people of Delaware do," he says, quietly. "And I do." He smooths a hand over his mustache. "Really I expected better from you, Jon. I thought you understood. I thought you were an it-getter."

Jon doesn't see him for the rest of the day, or the day after that, or the day after that. It reminds him of when they first met, when Stephen thought he was sick and wouldn't come near him for fear of catching the plague, except this time Stephen doesn't appear at his door with a bowl of soup.

This time Stephen doesn't appear at all.

"Shit," Jon says on the third day, and sets about trying to fix it.

His plan means he doesn't see Stephen for another week, but if it works it will have been worth it.

 

Stephen jumps as Jon slaps a sheaf of papers down on the desk in front of him.

"Oh," Stephen says, hiding his surprise with a layer of contempt, "it's you. I thought you'd gone on leave to think about what a terrible person you are."

"I did go on leave, Stephen," Jon says, almost bouncing on his feet. He can feel a grin threatening to break out and tries his best to hold it until he's said what he needs to. He's not entirely successful. "But it wasn't to think."

Stephen sniffs. "Well if you haven't thought about it, Jon," he begins, and Jon cuts him off, leaning in and over him.

"I didn't think," he says again, "I went and did something about it." He nudges the papers towards Stephen. "Look at them."

Stephen picks them up, warily. "If this is another of your tricks, Stewart, I'm putting you On Notice." He gestures menacingly towards the On Notice Whiteboard in the corner of the room, then blinks as he reads what Jon gave him.

"You... rented a car," he says slowly. "Why?"

"Well," Jon says, and this time he does grin, "I thought we might need it for when we go to Delaware in a couple of weeks. I thought, maybe... the Thursday after the election?"

Stephen's eyebrows draw down in confusion. "But Return Day isn't-"

"Oh yes it is," Jon says proudly. "A guy owed me a favour for not letting a particular story get out, and it turned out a guy on the Sussex County Council owed _him_ a favour, and they're letting Return Day run."

Stephen just stares at him for a long moment. Jon's grin fades and he starts to flush.

"Well," he says, "I figured, it's something people care about-"

Suddenly he's being hugged, very tightly. He pats Stephen on the back and tries not to get pulled entirely across the desk.

"Thankyou thankyou thankyou!" Stephen's saying, grabbing Jon even tighter. He releases him at last and practically struts around his office. "This is going to be the greatest Return Day ever!" He thrusts a finger at Jon's face. "We'll see who's smiling when Dole crushes Clinton!"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen, Stephen," Jon says, chuckling. "But as long as you're happy."

"Oh, I am, Jon," Stephen replies in a rare moment of seriousness, "and so are the people of Georgetown." He holds Jon's gaze, then crows, "And we'll be even happier when the Republicans win! USA! USA! USA!"

Jon leaves the office to the sound of Stephen's cheering. Stephen can be incredibly silly sometimes - the chanting just proves that - but Jon remembers the smiles on the Delawareans' faces, and thinks sometimes Stephen might not be so silly after all.

And maybe Stephen's right - maybe _The Delawert Report_ has more going for it than just a complete lack of graphics and the most hideous suit the wardrobe department can be bothered scrounging up.

Jon just grins and wonders if there's enough candy in the world to prepare for a seven hour drive with Stephen Colbert.

"Shit," Jon says on the third day, and sets about trying to fix it.

His plan means he doesn't see Stephen for another week, but if it works it will have been worth it.


	4. It Never Waynes but it Pours

_Patterson Springs, North Carolina, early 1997_

Jon's never had much to do with Wayne Colt, even though the man's the head anchor at WPTS. He suspects nobody has. The closed door at the end of the hallway is the subject of much speculation amongst the staff, but nobody's ever found out what goes on inside, despite several attempts by Stephen to break in while the others were distracted. All Jon's seen of Colt in his time working for the channel is a fleeting glimpse of suit as the man sweeps past on his way to a taping, and the sound of a deep voice doing a newscast.

Until today.

"-and I challenge anyone - anyone - to look at this damning evidence and not want to take this monster down," Stephen's saying, speaking into a camera as pictures of his - apparently drug-addicted - boss flash up behind him. The other employees stare on in horror. "Wayne Colt is a threat not only to himself, but to the people of Patterson Springs. And there are only 620 of us, so we can't afford to lose that many. Tune in next week for the next instalment in my new series, 'Anchor Away: The Tragic Downward Spiral of Wayne Colt.'"

They cut.

"Holy shit, Stephen," Jon says as he comes into Stephen's office. Stephen's still wiping the makeup off his face but he favours Jon with a grin.

"It's okay, Jon," he says, "you don't have to say it. I know I'm amazing." He pauses. "Well, actually, you do have to say it, but if you want to bask in my brilliant first I can wait."

Jon shakes his head but can't help a smile of his own. "I think that was some really, really good journalism, Stephen. I can't believe nobody else noticed Colt was on drugs all that time."

"Well it's a good thing I'm around, isn't it," Stephen says proudly, wiping the last of the makeup from his face. "And I'm glad you think so, because I think this report might just be my ticket out of here."

Jon coughs. "Out- out of where?" he says, stumbling over the words. The swift change from happiness for his friend to the possibility he might lose him leaves him breathless and a bit afraid.

Stephen raises an eyebrow. "Out of Patterson Springs, Jon. Maybe even out of North Carolina. They're already talking about making me the new head anchor, maybe even giving me a local Emmy." He doesn't seem to notice Jon staring at him. "I'm even - can I tell you a secret, Jon? That you can't tell anybody else?" He leans in close at Jon's nod and takes a deep breath. "I'm thinking about shaving off my mustache."

Jon doesn't speak for a long time.

"Where would you go?" he asks finally. Stephen's watching him with something approaching anxiety, but that's ridiculous. Stephen Colbert doesn't get nervous. Afraid, yes, but never nervous.

"Anyway," Stephen replies. He flicks a finger against a file on his desk. "I'm going to send out some tapes, see which stations recognise my brilliance. None of the liberal ones, of course. Don't want the lame-stream media stifling my unmatched journalistic prowess."

"This, uh, this seems like a pretty huge decision, Stephen," Jon says. He fiddles with the end of his tie, smooths his fingers over his own mustache. He still can't quite believe what he's hearing. "Don't do anything in a hurry."

Stephen shakes his head. "But I am in a hurry, Jon! This town is crushing me - I can feel it! Squeezing the life out of me like a python crushing its prey! And don't say I'm selling out, Jon, because I'm not. Can't you see I want more than this, Jon? That I want much more than this provincial life? Do you see what I'm saying?"

"You had me up until you started quoting Disney," Jon manages to force out. Inside he's gone cold - Stephen, leaving? But he looks at the earnestness on his friend's face, the way his turtlenecks don't seem to fit him quite right anymore. The way he doesn't wear his mustache with as much pride as he used to.

He really, really wants this, Jon realises.

Jon sure is going to miss him when he's gone.

"I just want you to be careful," Jon tells him.

"Don't worry about me," Stephen says, leaning back in his chair. "I think it's time the world bought in to Stephen Colbert."


	5. Have It and Eat It

_Patterson Springs, North Carolina, 1997_

The cake is the biggest Jon has ever seen. It sits in the middle of the table, icing white and gleaming, paper plates and plastic forks stacked around it, ready for the staff of WPTS to devour it in all its sugary glory. Along one corner there are a series of finger marks where someone has, several times, stolen some of the icing, and is currently shoving it in Jon’s face.

“Come on, try it,” Stephen says, waving his iced finger under Jon’s nose. “It’s practically pure sugar, Jon – it’s like an orgasm in your mouth.”

Jon gently pushes Stephen’s hand down and away. “I don’t think an orgasm in my mouth really sounds that nice, Stephen,” he says, chuckling weakly. “And it certainly wouldn’t be sugary.”

“Don’t be gross,” is all Stephen says, giving up and sucking his finger clean himself. Jon tries not to watch the way his cheeks hollow, the way his eyes flutter closed momentarily in enjoyment. The way his face, newly shorn of his moustache, seems more youthful. The way he can’t stop smiling. “What’s gotten into you today? You’re becoming a downer, Jon, and that’s not good. You need to be an upper.”

Jon eyes the cake again. Giant iced letters stare back at him, mocking.

 **GOODBYE STEPHEN & GOOD LUCK IN NEW YORK!**, they read, and Jon thinks he’s never hated a cake more.

“Hey,” Stephen says, bumping his shoulder gently against Jon’s, “it’s not the cake’s fault I’m leaving.”

Jon glances at Stephen guiltily, then looks away. “No, no, it’s not that,” he says, fumbling for a lie. Stephen’s smile is faltering. “It’s just – I just haven’t been feeling well lately,” he finishes lamely. “I’m probably coming down with something.”

“Well don’t get too sick,” Stephen says, “I won’t be around to bring you soup this time.” He fumbles in his pockets, retrieving a small bottle that rattles when he shakes it. He holds it up with a triumphant grin. “Here, take this Vaxadrine. But be careful, because side effects may include hair of the dog, pork belly, and phantom eyeballs.”

Jon pockets the bottle with a forced smile. “Thanks,” he says, and he could swear Stephen’s about to say something right then, something important, but then Barry from the sound department calls for him to cut the cake and Stephen disappears into the crowd.

 

Jon drives him to the airport the next morning, and he hugs Stephen at the gate as long as he can before, finally, Stephen has to pry himself away because he has to board.

"I'm being paged," he tells Jon gently, not at all brash or loud like he usually is.

It's only when Stephen's plane has taxied down the runway and is up the air that Jon realises Stephen was hugging back just as tightly.

 

The next few days pass in a sort of blur; WPTS is different without Stephen there, emptier. It’s not just Stephen’s presence that's missing, but the life he brought to each story, the conviction, and the absolute (albeit often misplaced) confidence he had in everything he did. Even the town as a whole felt a little duller, a little more lifeless, although Jon had previously thought there was nothing on earth that could possibly make Patterson Springs any less exciting.

Basically, Jon misses him.

They still talk all the time, Stephen often calling Jon or messaging him at the most inopportune moments - after the seventh call during their Monday morning staff meeting, and the seventh angry look from their new head anchor, Jon had asked Stephen if he was timing them on purpose. Stephen had just laughed - but it's not the same. Jon misses the way Stephen's whole body would shake when he laughed, misses the random hugs and the way they would bring coffee to each other when the other person needed it. The way Stephen would always be there ready to blast the latest Ricky Martin hit into Jon's ear, and the way he didn't complain when Jon played Springsteen over and over to him in return.

The worst thing is that Jon's been moved into Stephen's old office, and every day when he walks in there, expecting to see his friend behind the desk, or more commonly perched on it, the empty room hits him like a physical blow.

He can't even make himself enthusiastic about the stories any more. When he can't even force himself to smile at a story about an award given to the local elementary school, he knows he needs to change.

The razor feels cold and strange over his top lip, and when he sees himself in the mirror afterwards he can barely recognise himself.

 _I look like a whole new person,_ he thinks to himself, and maybe it's just what he needs.

He's packed and on his way by the end of the week. He doesn't bother with a cake.


	6. Beginnings/Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jon makes some more changes, gets a job, and may have just fucked everything up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _The Jon Stewart Show_ totally had a 1998-99 run, what are you talking about *shifty eyes*. Again, continuity != consistent with reality, here.

_New York, early 1998_

New York is a change in more ways than one.

Since he stepped off the plane at JFK, battered luggage clasped tightly in hand, Jon has been surrounded by people. New York is a far cry from the sleepy little town of Patterson Springs, and with a population of over seven million, it's quite a shock to a guy used to dealing with only 620 people. Jon finds himself more than once feeling overcrowded and lost, and he finds himself unexpectedly missing his hometown. He also finds things a lot rougher than he's used to - New Yorkers are more prone to push past him in the street, less likely to apologise. _It's probably because there are so many of them,_ Jon thinks. _It means you don't know where they live._

Still, crowds and shoving and rudeness or not, he's determined to make the best of it. He doesn't even bother checking in to a hotel - he only has his one bag, anyway, it's not like he can't carry it around with him - and decides to go in search of Stephen.

He has a scrap of paper clutched tightly in one hand, the address of the studio of Stephen's new show scrawled on it in Stephen's messy, loopy handwriting ( _don't lose this,_ Stephen had told him forcefully, shoving the paper at Jon right befre he had to sprint to board his plane. Jon had been touched until Stephen had turned back and shouted, _when I become rich and hugely famous, even more famous than I am now, you're going to want to know where to find me,_ and then Jon had just collapsed into helpless laughter). Navigating the New York streets is a little more difficult than he had imagined, but made easier by the fact that most of them are numbered.

His anticipation grows with every stride he takes towards his destination. He's finally done it - finally left Patterson Springs, finally followed his heart, finally done what he should have done so long ago, and now he's finally seeing Stephen again after way too long. Of course, he's watched _The Daily Show_ every night, seen Stephen's clips and laughed uproariously (because while he does think it's maybe a little too light on the content - Stephen's old _Delawert Report_ had more newsworthy stories - it's good, and it's funny, and maybe he does laugh a little harder than he has to at Stephen's segments, but that's between him and his television), and he and Stephen talk all the time though email and on the phone, it hasn't been the same as actually _seeing_ him. Jon finds himself walking faster and faster as he turns the corner and sets eyes on the studio, finds himself almost running as he bounds towards the steps leading up to the studio door, finds himself beaming as he starts to climb them-

-and finds he can't.

Even though he's now sans beard, and instead of the ridiculous flimsy shirts he used to wear while working for Channel 7 he wears tshirts and his old leather jacket, Jon realises he's still the same guy he was back in Patterson Springs.

And in a city full of changes, where Stephen's sure to have changed, where _everything_ has changed, he's not sure that's going to be enough.

 _He'll have outgrown me,_ Jon thinks, foot poised above the bottom step. He wavers, momentarily frozen amidst the bustle of the passersby, then slowly, _slowly_ places his foot back down on the sidewalk and turns away.

He'll talk to Stephen when he's settled, he tells himself. When he's got a place to live. Then Stephen will see that he can deal with this, with New York and this new life Stephen has found for himself. If he goes now, Stephen will just think he's some idiot who couldn't hack it on his own and had to come running to his best friend when the going got tough.

 _I'll show Stephen I can do this just as well as he can,_ Jon decides, and tells himself it's for the best, even though each step away feels like a knife in his heart. _Then I'll tell him._

 _I will._

 

The only problem is, 'when I've got a place to live' becomes 'when I've got a job', because how can he get a place to live without a steady income, which turns into 'when I've got a steady job', because standup doesn't quite cut it in the bill-paying department, and then that becomes 'when things have calmed down at work', because hosting a show for MTV isn't the easiest thing in the world, and by the time that's morphed into 'when I've got a job' again, because it turns out Leno and Letterman are really hard to compete with, he finds it's halfway through October and he hasn't talked to Stephen in _weeks._

He feels that somewhere along the way his plan may have backfired.

He still talks to Stephen regularly - or he was, before _The Jon Stewart Show_ got cancelled and he'd had to spend all his energy job hunting - but somewhere along the line he just kept... forgetting to bring up the fact that he may have followed Stephen across two states to be with him. He answers questions about Patterson Springs and WPTS and tries to quash the creeping feeling that he shouldn't be doing this, and the dread that every time he picks up the phone it will be to Stephen yelling, _you_ lied _to me_ and then slamming down the receiver and never talking to Jon again. It hasn't happened yet - maybe Stephen doesn't watch MTV? It would certainly fit with his assertion MTV has ['fractured America's consciousness'](http://www.colbertnation.com/the-colbert-report-videos/73430/august-23-2006/gideon-yago) \- but Jon can't shake the sense that one day all the half-truths he's told will be mercilessly torn down.

"Next time he calls, I'll tell him," Jon swears to himself backstage at one of his sets. One of the other comedians - Jane, he thinks her name is, or possibly Janeane - just shoots him a look, complete with raised eyebrow and sceptical snort, and goes back to revising her material.

He has the same pit in his stomach when he gets the call.

The phone rings on a Tuesday, and Jon only glances at the numbers enough to see it's a call from the _Daily Show_ studios before picking it up.

"Stephen, I'm in New York," he blurts before the other man can say anything. His eyes are screwed tightly shut as he braces himself for the inevitable explosion and his knuckles are white around the receiver.

There's a moment of silence in which Jon's absolutely frozen with dread, and then-

 _"This, uh, my name is Charles and I work for_ The Daily Show _,"_ comes a voice, and Jon's still frozen, but now it's with confusion. _"Am I speaking to Jon Stewart?"_

"Yes," Jon says, relief and confusion warring in his chest. "This is Jon Stewart. How can I help you?"

 _"Well,"_ says Charles, _"actually it was more a case of how we can help you. Have you ever thought of coming to work for Comedy Central?"_

Jon lets out all the air he was holding in in one huge rush. "Please don't judge me by that first thing I said," is all he can think to say. "Oh yeah, and also, I'd love to. What did, uh, what did you have in mind?"

He's not sure but he thinks Charles is laughing at him. _"Great,"_ Charles tells him. _"That's great. And don't worry, I'm not judging you - you can't be any worse than our last host."_

"Host?" Jon croaks out. "You want me to be host?" And then it's all he can do to scramble for a pen because Charles is reeling off addresses and times and something about _meet our correspondents, they're very excited_ before he hangs up and Jon finds himself suddenly employed.

"I'm going to host _The Daily Show,_ " he shouts joyfully, his voice liud in the quiet of his apartment. Then his stomach plummets as he realises what that means. "Oh, shit, I'm going to work for _The Daily Show,_ " he says, and now everything is going to be exposed and it's going to be even worse than he imagined.

He spends the next week going to meetings and signing things and most of all pacing his apartment tearing his hair out because, oh, shit, what has he got himself into now, but on his first day of work he puts on his grey suit (slightly too big for him, but it's the only suit he's got) and heads out the door ready to face his destiny.

Then he mentally chides himself for being melodramatic and buys a paper and gets on the subway and tries not to think about anything except the article he's reading about Clinton.

It doesn't quite work and he arrives at the studios a bundle of nerves, but he gets through the morning alright and that's almost enough to convince him that he'll make it through the afternoon as well when a hand taps him on the shoulder and he turns to face the wide, even smile of one Stephen Colbert.


End file.
